Curses on the Lucky Ones
by stick-at-nought shady
Summary: Delly just doesn't get that she can't do anything to stop the Seam people from hating the merchants. For the Caesar's Palace Monthly Oneshot Challenge for December.


**For the Caesar's Palace Monthly Oneshot Challenge, December '13. Last one this year!**

* * *

_If you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones; 'cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs_

* * *

There was no visible barrier between them, yet they were divided. On one side, there was the merchants. On the other side, there was the Seam. There was no other sides. You were from the Seam area, or you were a merchant. There was no "middle class". You were poor, or you were rich. There was no in between for anyone in District Twelve.

* * *

A girl sat on the back porch of a merchant-class house. The skin between her eyebrows was creased from her troubled look. She gripped the edges of the polished, white-painted steps underneath her. Her slightly pudgy, pale legs were crossed, since she was wearing a skirt. Her limp, curly hair was tied back in a neat little ponytail at the nape of her neck. The wind caused loose tendrils of her blonde hair to be whipped free. She kept staring into the distance.

"Delly?" called a voice. "Delly, dear, come on inside. It's freezing." Delly jolted from her daydream at the sound of her mother's voice.

"Coming, mama," she said, getting up. The smell of roasted duck came from inside the house, and the girl felt herself salivating. Delly was about to walk inside, when she heard a shout.

"Yeah, come in for _dinner_," yelled a voice from behind her. "You should be lucky you get dinner, you spoiled brat!" Delly turned around and saw an angry-looking Seam boy glaring at her.

"I can't help it!" Delly said feebly. She had never been one for insulting, but she said, "You... rude, uncaring child!" The boy just snickered at her. Delly felt angry. It was the best insult she could think of! She hated being mad at people, and didn't have much cause to yell at people.

"Rude? I'm telling the truth! We have one meal a day, or less! But fine, get your fat ass inside. Mama wants you," the boy said snidely. Delly stiffened. She'd never been cussed at. It made her feel like crying. Was she really fat? Didn't everyone call their mothers 'Mama' or a variant of that? Was the boy telling the truth? Was she spoiled, and a brat too? Did the Seam people really eat only that much? Delly's eyes stung in confusion and hurt.

"What are you doing out there, Dell? Dinner's not getting any warmer," said the merry voice of Mrs. Cartwright.

"C-coming, Mama," Delly said again. This time, she went inside quickly, shutting the door fleetingly behind her. One tear made its way down Delly's flushed face.

"Are you crying, honey? What's wrong?" asked Delly's mother, setting down her wooden spoon on the newly shined counter.

"I got dust in my eye from the wind," Delly lied, wiping her eyes. "Mama? How much do the people living in the Seam eat?" Mrs. Cartwright looked a bit put off.

"Goodness, why are you asking?" She walked over to the wood stove and stirred the roasted duck soup with her spoon. Steam from the savory dinner floated up in a mushroom cloud, warming the area around the stove.

Delly shrugged as she grabbed four porcelain soup bowls and placed them around the wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. She bit her lip and put back a bowl. Her little brother was still at the apothecary. He had been hit by a rock, right in the head, and had gotten a concussion. No one had owned up to throwing the rock at poor Colin, but Delly didn't care. All the wanted was her little brother, safe at home.

"Well, they don't eat enough, that's for sure," Mrs. Cartwright said. Delly looked up. "I wish we could do something, too, honey, but they simply don't accept our help. Once I went down there with a basket of rolls, and tried to hand them out. Do you remember doing that with me?" She asked. Delly shook her head as she placed spoons around the table for herself, her father, and her mother.

"Of course you don't," said Mrs. Cartwright, laughing to herself. "Silly me. You were only three years old when we did that. Anyway, more than half of them refused to take a roll or two. They were just too proud to admit they needed our help. And that's the way they'll always be." Mrs. Cartwright patted Delly's hand.

"I'm going to try to be nice to them, though," Delly said, thinking of how angry the Seam boy was. It would just be better if everyone was kinder to each other.

"That's good, sweetie," said her mother, ladling out soup. "That's good."

* * *

If Delly was one thing, other than kindhearted, she was true to her word. The next day, she took a basket from the front hall of her house and walked outside. She smiled at no one in particular, practicing for smiling politely at Seam residents. There was an extra hop in her step as she walked to the Mellark's bakery. Delly had a purse full of money, but she hoped she wouldn't have to spend it all.

She paused, and tried to correct her selfish thought. _No, Delly!_ she chided herself. _You're glad to spend all this money, if it means those poor people can eat. _

The girl opened the wooden door of the bakery. A bell rang merrily to alert Mr. Mellark that he had customers, and Delly practiced smiling again. Someone walked out of the kitchens and into the customer area.

"Hello, Mr. Mellark!" she said cheerfully, but the person was her age. "Peeta!" she exclaimed, grinning. "It's been so long! You know what I'm doing? I'm going to go to the Seam and hand out food to the people!" Peeta's square-shaped, pale face smiled back at her. He opened the glass case that held the rolls and bread.

"Mind if you have a tag-along?" Peeta asked, blushing for some reason. "I want to get out of the kitchens for a while... and I think your idea's great." Delly beamed at him. It was great that Peeta wanted to help with the cause.

"I need your help loading up on food," Delly said, surveying the loaves of bread. "Hmm... what would you recommend for starving Seam people?" Peeta took off the flour-covered apron he was wearing and walked over to the customer area to join Delly.

"Well, some sustaining stuff," he said, pointing at the bread. "Not cake or something that won't keep them full. I'd say bagels, bread- oh yeah, and none of the rolls. They're too rich, it might make the people sick." Delly grabbed loaves of bread and set them in her basket. With Peeta's help, Delly filled three overflowing baskets with food.

After Peeta got permission to leave the bakery, the two merchant's children set off to the Seam. They didn't talk, but Delly made sure to remind Peeta to act friendly. As they got closer to the Seam, they choked on the coal dust. Their fragile lungs were unaccustomed to the smog. Delly felt like she was dying as she hacked and coughed.

_Is that how they feel all the time? _Delly asked, her eyes tearing up with the putrid dust in the air. _No wonder they resent us! They can't even inhale and exhale properly. _She felt her stomach twist at the thought of living like that.

"Peeta," she whispered. "Let's go down the rows of houses and get out of here." Peeta nodded, coughing into the crook of his elbow. They strode through the Seam quickly, their clean shoes getting dirtied with a mixture of coal dust and dirt.

When they reached a house, Peeta raised his fist to knock on the door. Delly quickly seized his arm and stopped him. "What?" he asked in a low voice.

"My mama did this once," Delly told him. "They refused to take the food. I was thinking we should leave some stuff on their doorsteps." Peeta raised his eyebrows. Delly looked down at her feet, hoping she hadn't offended him. "That is, if you have another idea..."

"No," Peeta said, smiling. "It's just... you've really thought this through, Dell. This is really nice of you, to do this." Delly smiled back at him, and pulled a loaf of whole wheat bread out of one of her baskets. Carefully, she set it on the doorstep, and the two teenagers hurried off before the owner of the house could refuse the charity.

They made their way down the rows of houses until the bottoms of the baskets showed. Delly was feeling very relieved. Out of the corners of her eyes, she could see little Seam children picking up the food and staring at it wonderingly, as if asking themselves if it wasn't a dream. No one had thrown rocks at them or anything. Delly turned toward Peeta to tell him that they should go, but just then there was a shout behind her.

"You think you're being so giving?" The shouter was an old woman, which made Delly's stomach seize up. She'd never been yelled at by an elder. "You're just showing off that you can spend all your money, and still be _filthy rich_!" Delly felt tears fill up her eyes. Why couldn't they just accept the food and not scream about it?

"Leave us alone," Peeta managed to call.

"You don't know what it's like!" screamed the woman. "Choking on your every breath! Watching your husband going off to the mines every damned day! Hearing your stomach growl because you can never get enough food!"

"That's why we're here!" Delly said, her lower lip trembling. "To help you!" But the woman didn't care. She kept yelling out things that the rich people didn't have to face.

Peeta and Delly felt like they couldn't run. They were trapped in the sticky, human-sized spider web of accusations that the elderly woman was spinning around them.

"You were born lucky!" she shrieked. She pointed at them with one shaky, wrinkled finger. "Curses!" she yelled. "Curses on the lucky ones!"


End file.
